


Of Vermillion and Gold (my love is made)

by Anicdestiny



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Acceptance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/My Unit | Byleth, Background Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund - Freeform, Background Dorothea Arnault/Ferdinand von Aegir, Background Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Annette Fantine Dominic, Background Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro, Doubt, Duty, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Love, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy, etc cuz there's so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anicdestiny/pseuds/Anicdestiny
Summary: The War has met it's long awaited end, leaving the United Kingdom of Fodlan in a state of celebration with hope for the future. But amidst the jubilation, two people, among many others, are hesitant to take their first steps forward. With their hearts in each other's hands, they stumble through the dark together.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 6





	Of Vermillion and Gold (my love is made)

The dormitory was quiet, with the exception of a few still celebrating from the late hours to the moderately early ones. The soft morning light glazed the buildings in an indigo tint and cast shadows over the grounds. There was heavy fog that last Horsebow Moon morning. It hid the monastery like a sheen in its dominance. The foggy mornings always seemed to keep people in their beds, gently lulling them to sleep longer than they otherwise would. 

But not today.

Today, there was one person awake, sleepily rushing about her quarters to grab her things together. She had much to do.

The woman's blonde hair whipped her in the face as she rushed about with a slightly abrupt nature. Despite being shortened drastically from it's previously extensive length, her hair was always messy when she awoke. It was blonde and had a natural shine to it. All but her side-bangs, usually braided and pulled back, was cut to hang just under her rather defined chin. It framed her face quite nicely, acting as a backdrop to her pale complexion and seafoam-green eyes. Her rounded optics were stunning, they shimmered in the dusk sunlight if given the chance. She had near perfect vision, which meant good things for her position as a Falcon Knight. 

Everything about this young woman was stunning, breathtaking, even beautiful as she'd been told a few times before.

Despite her complete self-awareness to people's glances in her direction, she had never acknowledged the fact she was beautiful. It was an odd subject for her as she had never exactly thought about her physical appearance as something of importance. It was one of the few topics that made her bashful side show itself. She rarely revealed her weaknesses, seeing it as necessary to hold herself in a confident, unafraid, headstrong manner. Those qualities were needed if she hoped to become the "Ideal Knight," as said in her own words. It was her biggest dream and had been for the longest time. However, only after she'd lost her fiancé in the Tragedy of Duscur did she realize the precious concept of mortality and vow to see her dream to fruition. 

If not for her sake, then for Glenn's.

Pulling herself off her spot on the floor, the young woman opened her cabinets one by one, pulling out various clothing items and tossing them at her satchel that leaned dependantly on the foremost leg of her writing desk. She did not own many articles of clothing, yet somehow, over her time at the monastery, she had accumulated a full two cabinets' worth.

The blonde turned to her bed, staring at the clothes she'd lain out for herself after waking. She groaned softly, dreading the cold autumn air that would sweep over her as soon as she removed her night-clothing. Finally, she decided it was best to just get it over with and not milk the process any longer. She grimaced lightly as she removed her soft beige night shirt and pulled over her lengthened, mint-toned rider's tunic. Next, she pulled off her ridiculously comfortable baby-blue bloomers, replacing them with white skin-tights and then pulling up tall, aegean, gold-trimmed riding boots. 

Having gotten the worst bit out of the way, the blonde pulled her ocean-blue-green corset around her midsection. She didn't particularly "need" it, she was strong and fit with a smaller build, but it matched her hair ribbons and trimmed cloak, so why not. Plus, it kept her armor from digging into her stomach when she rode on horseback. It was practical.

After tying it together, she pulled her armour out of the farthest cabinet from her bed. Sorting it out, she carefully put it on and clipped and/or buckled it into place. It was a long, exhausting process, but she enjoyed it for some reason, unbeknownst to even her.

Lastly, she walked to her small mirror, braiding the two longer pieces of her short golden hair and pulling them back, pinning them with a small clip. Then, she grabbed two small hair ribbons out of her drawer, tying them into place between the pieces of her braids.

Stopping to look at herself briefly, she smiled as she recalled the day she'd received those ribbons.

~♡~

"Ingrid calm down, pleeeeease!" Her vermillion-haired friend had pleaded, exasperated, after she wouldn't buy anything for herself.

"You know I don't go shopping unless I actually need something of necessity! Spending hard earned gold on such trivialities is simply irresponsible!! You'd do well to remember that." She had retorted, overwhelmed by the idea of it all.

"Ouch." 

She'd noticed his faux-offended gesture and had returned it with an eye roll. 

"You're telling me you've never bought anything unless it was necessary? Sure, In's."

Ingrid had shrugged,  
"No, I really haven't, not for myself anyway."

"Jeez, you're tight as ever."

"It's my 'tightness' that makes up for your carelessness, Sylvain. You're welcome." 

Sylvain put his arm around her, waving a gesture with his other hand.  
"Oh, why thank you my dearest friend for compensating my terrible mistakes!! I would be simply lost without you!!"

The girl had shoved his arm off, walking away from him.

"Hey, hey!" The messy-haired boy yelled after her as he caught up.

~

It was later that day, the sun was sluggishly making its way under the horizon as the day was coming to a close. The two childhood friends had come to a vendor selling a variety of charming accessories. Sylvain brushed past, thinking nothing of it as Ingrid didn't tend to care about those kinds of things. This time he was wrong.

Ingrid stopped a moment, glancing over at the table with various charms and the like. 

The vermillion-haired male realized she was not following him anymore and turned around.  
"Hey, whatcha' doing?"

"Huh, oh. Sorry, Sylvain. I was just looking." The girl had said, tilting her head in a gesture, causing her choppy bangs to fall in her range of view. 

He had strolled back over to her, intrigued. It wasn't like her to get caught up looking at pretty things. Whatever she was gazing at must have been quite intresting.

But it wasn't interesting, it was quite simple, in fact. Sylvain supposed that made sense too.

The item she was looking at was a set of two small hair ribbons in a wooden box, patterned in such a way that the actual bow was white with an ocean-blue-green loop design. The untied ribbon was the same color as the loops.  
They were simple and inextravagant, 

Just Ingrid's style.

She shook her head, patting his arm as she brushed past.

"You like those?"

Ingrid had sighed.  
"I know where you're going with this. It's not happening."

"Why not? You rarely show interest in these type of things, why not splurge a little?" He asked, already having known her answer.

"Because we don't have extra money to spend, Sylvain. I'm not using the gold my father sent me on hair ties." 

Sylvain understood. He knew times were often very hard for her and her family. She'd been taught to spend her money wisely, not wasting it on things that she did not need.

"Fine, fine, I get it. Sorry, In's."

"It's fine. Listen, I'm gonna head back, it's getting dark. Meet me in the dining hall for dinner?"

Sylvain blinked dumbly, staring at the blonde for a moment.  
"Yeah, sure."

Ingrid smiled as she shook her head.  
"Alright, see ya." 

With that, the girl had walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

~

"Ingrid! Hey, wait!" Sylvain had called as she walked up the steps.

She stared at him quizzically.  
"What?"

"Wait, wait, come here and close your eyes."

Her eyes had narrowed suspiciously.  
"....Why...?"

"Just- 'cause! Close your eyes."

"I am not stupid, Sylvain."

"Who said you were?? Just close your eyes, Ingrid! It's a surprise." He pleaded, exasperatedly.

Ingrid's hands moved to her hips, she had shifted her weight onto her left leg.  
"A surprise, huh? Sure, sure. Just don't try anything stupid." She warned.

"I won't, 'swear it." 

"Hm." She shut her seafoam-green eyes, those dense, dark eyelashes lying on her cheek softly.

Carefully, Sylvain pulled out two small ribbons, reaching to tie them into her lengthy golden hair.

The girl jolted as she felt his touch on her head.  
"I said nothing stupi-"

"Shh, I'm not doing anything stupid, trust me!" 

Just before she pulled away, he tied them, rather clumsily.

"What on the Goddess' green earth did you-"

She touched the ribbons.

Sylvain braced for a slap that never came.

She stared at him, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Her mouth opened wider to speak but her brain couldn't seem to keep up. She stood silent for a moment, causing Sylvain a bit of concern.

"Um.... In's?"

"...." She sighed. "You know what I want to say."

He chuckled.  
"I do."

"I suppose... a thank you will suffice."  
She shook her head once more.  
"Thank you, Sylvain. I love them."

He smiled,  
"You're welcome, Brandy." He replied, using a nickname he'd called her many many times.

"Oh shut up." She swatted at his arm, walking into the dining hall.

"Neverrrr!!" He had called, jogging in with her.

~♡~

Ingrid's reminiscing had been cut short by a knock on her door.

She stared at the door quizzically. It was too early for most people to be up. She began racking her brain for something she'd done wrong, something that called for an early-morning lecture. Nothing came to mind.

The knocker became impatient, their knocking becoming louder.

"Apologies, give me a moment!" She called at them as she tidied a bit of space 'round the door. 

Her pale hand pulled on the doorknobs, tugging open the rather heavy doors. A very sleepy, but very panicked looking Sylvain Gautier stood there, an expression of relief washing over his beige tone when he saw her. 

She looked at him, raising one of her dark eyebrows.  
"What're you doing here?" 

"Thank the Goddess you're still here!!"  
He sighed, putting a gloved hand on his forehead to then card it through his bright vermillion hair.

Ingrid's stomach sank. How did he know she was leaving? She had told no one but His Highness and the Professor. Maybe he overheard? She hadn't said anything to him on purpose to keep this from happening.

She frowned,  
"How did you find that out?"

"The Professor told us."

"...She did what??"

"She told us you were leaving."

The young woman groaned, walking in and falling backwards onto her bed.

"Why wouldn't you tell us?? Aren't we friends??" Sylvain said in such a way that Ingrid couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"Of course we're friends, Sylvain, don't be ridiculous..." She exhaled as she spoke, throwing her left arm over her face.

"So why didn't you tell us, or even just me?" He said, sitting next to her on her bed.

"Because I knew you'd beg me not to, I knew you'd try to convince me to stay." Ingrid responded curtly.

"But, why are you leaving? The war has ended and all you've ever talked about is your dream of becoming the 'ideal knight' like Gle-"

She threw her hand over his mouth.  
"Shut up."

The male stared at her, unsure if he should be offended or not. He pulled her hand off of his face.  
"Okay, sorry. Why are you leaving?"

The blonde woman sat up, wincing from a previous wound, still healing.  
"I've decided to go home."

Sylvain stared at her, blinking a few times to process what he'd heard.

"You've what??"

"I'm going home."

"But- but why?? I thought you hated the idea of taking over House Galatea?"

"I'm not doing that just yet, but my parents are getting older and my people are suffering even more due to the effects of the war. It's just... not right. For me to fulfill my dreams knowing my people are struggling because of my selfishness? I wouldn't be able to live with myself." She said, eyes lowering.

Once again, He understood where she was coming from. Ingrid was strong, straightforward, and stubborn, but she cared deeply for her family and close allies. He knew she wished to be free of the burden her father had placed on her due to her Minor Crest of Daphnel, but he also knew that she recognized how he sacrificed his own basic comfort to give her a good childhood. She was good in that way, always wanting to repay the kindness dealt to her.

He sighed in sympathy for his best friend, "You shouldn't have to choose, it isn't fair." 

Ingrid made a small, sad laugh, "It isn't, but hopefully... the next generation won't have to deal with the pressure we did."  
She closed her eyes, leaning against her headboard.

Sylvain looked at her. Her dark eyebrows drew together following the slightly pained expression she held.  
"Yeah,.. maybe. Still, you shouldn't go." He persisted.

"Sylvain, don't do this.."

"We need you, Ingrid. You yourself have said that you 'do better riding in the saddle than riding in a carriage.' Plus, His Highness's official coronation is next month-"

"Sylvain, I'll be there, you know it."

"But you won't have time if you go back."

"I'll find time."

"I beg to differ, In's."

She groaned, "It's not like I'm going to disappear from the face of Fodlan! You'll still see me whenever I have the chance."

"Ingrid." 

"Sylvain." She responded mockingly.

"Ingrid."

He grabbed her calloused hand abruptly, looking her dead in those beautiful green optics. She returned his gaze, realizing he wasn't teasing.

"You can't leave." The male said, his tone a mix of demand and pleading. 

The blonde was struck oddly by his stare, considering it was Sylvain, who was rarely serious about anything. He looked seriously upset by this. She could feel her cheeks warm slightly and her eyes soften. She averted her eyes, suddenly her satchel was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. 

"Please, I'm sure His Highness and Felix would miss you too."

Ingrid turned back to look at their hands. His were so warm, concealed in those red-palmed gloves. Hers were slim, calloused, and a tad bony 'round her knuckles. She realized how she missed this...

"Please?" He said again, trying to meet her emerald gaze.

Finally, after a long, slightly impatient silence, she spoke.  
"I'll stay... one more month, then I'm going."

Sylvain wasn't exactly satisfied with this answer, but decided not to push the subject anymore.  
"Fair enough."

He stood, holding his hand out for her.  
She stared at it, unsure what it was that he wanted.

"Come on," He beckoned, "Let's go have breakfast."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. It wasn't late enough for breakfast yet, was it?  
She looked out her window confusedly.  
It was already bright.  
Now that she listened, she could hear people talking outside the door. She groaned once more, realizing how much time she'd wasted.

She then smiled softly, grabbing his hand and allowing him to pull her up.

"There ya go." He said, gently patting her back.

He moved to the wooden doors, opening them both with moderate ease. He bowed, smirking as he let her out. She playfully curtsied in return, laughing at his dorkiness. 

~

A few days had passed since their little exchange, Sylvain was more than a little panicked. If Ingrid kept her word, that meant he only had 27 days to convince her to stay. This wasn't an easy task. The woman was stubborn, responsible, and principled, making her a difficult person to convince of anything. He would figure out something.. he had to. This girl- woman- was everything to him, he needed her more than he had ever needed anything before. A part of him went missing when she left the room. He got chills whenever he felt her touch.  
She was captivatingly beautiful, anyone with eyes could see that, but it was the little things she did that made him miss her. It was the way her thick eyelashes fluttered in her sleep. It was the way she looked at him when he said something to fluster her. It was how her embrace made his knees weak. It was her laugh that was an octive higher than her normal voice and sounded like morning bells. He'd come to the realization a few weeks prior that this wasn't some silly, just-for-fun, love-'em-and-leave-'em feeling,

This was love.

He loved her.

He was in love with this stubborn, responsible, principled woman; his best friend. 

But how do you tell someone you've fallen head-over-heels in love with them? If he told her plain out, she'd laugh it off as one of his useless attempts at wooing her. If he hinted and hinted, she'd never key in on the difficultly conveyed message. She was just like that. Sylvain had to figure out some way to show her- tell her- before she left and had less than 4 weeks to do it. It wouldn't be easy, but he needed her, that's all that mattered.

~

Ingrid recieved a letter from her father asking when she'd be home. She'd known it was coming, but didn't want to acknowledge it. Her father loved her, she knew that full well, but he was so incredibly bothersome when it came down to her life choices. As House Galatea's "last hope," she was obligated to do what was best for her family and their citizens. To her father, that meant marrying into a higher noble family and eventually birthing a child with a Crest to continue the Galatea bloodline. Sure, she'd probably be married someday, but on her own time and to someone she truly loved. Truth be told, she couldn't exactly recall what love felt like, the last time she'd felt that was when she was 13. That felt like a lifetime ago. Still, the only thing she could remember about that feeling was how her heart had fluttered whenever he'd said her name. It had been such a beautiful feeling. She'd felt so happy with him, he had been her entire world. 

She missed him.

It hurt so horribly to even recall his smile, to recall the days she spent watching him train with His Majesty, to remember how he'd proudly gush about the progress he'd made and how great his training partners had done. He'd made her feel like a girl, made her feel like a young child and a woman at the same time. 

After his death, the Count had given his daughter a few months to regather herself before searching for any new suitors. She'd been too broken to even walk at his funeral. Her father had had to carry the girl as she sobbed uncontrollably. Moving on felt like an insult to his memory, no matter how many times she told herself it wasn't. She felt that even though she'd come to terms with the fact he was gone long ago, she'd never be able to fully release herself from the subconscious chains their love had bound her by. Ingrid had taken it upon herself to become the kind of knight- the kind of person -that she'd seen Glenn as. The perfect knight; virtuous, kind, and true. She held that vision of him tightly as if to keep from sckewing her 13-year-old self's love for her fiance. 

Ingrid decided better of immediately writing back to him. She required a few delicate days to get her thoughts in order so she could respond with all she wanted to say.

As the young woman opened her door, glancing down the hall, she sighed to herself slowly. Her eyes caught those of a certain male, one whom she'd grown quite close to. He raised an eyebrow at her heavy sigh.

"Well, hello to you too." He said, staring as her eyebrows knit together.

"Hi." She responded, brushing past him as she fingered the small buckle on the belt of her training wear.

"Off to train?" He asked stupidly.

"No, I'm attending a ball at the Imperial Palace." She said sarcastically, "Yes, Sylvain. I'm going to train."

The male frowned as she kept walking, down the stairs and out into the courtyard.  
"Jeez, what's up with you?" He said, immediately regretting his choice of words.

"I'll-" She started, but her irritation quickly deflated. "Argh... Apologies, I'm not angry with you- this time."

Seeing her calm, he chuckled, patting her shoulder.  
"Phew! I thought I was in trouble. But seriously, what's wrong, Ingrid?"

"I'll give you one guess." 

He understood, sighing as he felt his fur collar. Sylvain wasn't new to Ingrid's bouts of annoyance, he could now; after 17+ years of friendship, distinguish between the causes of her frustrations. She had many, himself often being one of them. 

"Gotcha." Sylvain stopped short of long sigh.

Ingrid's shoulders fell along with her gaze as she moved along the path towards the training grounds. Sylvain followed.

"Another suitor, I presume?" 

"Not this time, amazingly." She cocked her head, her blonde hair bouncing as her steps quickened. 

Sylvain was taken off-gaurd by her response,  
"That's new."

Ingrid made a short laugh,  
"Right?"

The male rested both arms behind his head, his fashionably-messy hair tickled at his wrists.  
"What does he want now?"

The blonde hesitated, her steps slowing almost to a stop.

Sylvain slowed with her. His eyes narrowed.  
"Ingrid,"

The female sighed,  
"He wants me home. Home so he can show me off to new and wealthier suitors, I'd bet." She wiggled her fingers in the air.

Sylvain groaned in annoyance for her.

He absolutely loathed how Ingrid's father treated her like some trophy to be won, like she was a pretty object to be sold to the highest bidder. It drove him mad to think about it. Ingrid was many, many things, but she was not an object and he couldn't stand her being treated like one. It took everything in him to not to make the long, tedious journey to Galatea to give the Count a piece of his mind and a little more. Sylvain wanted so badly to fight for her, knowing she wouldn't do it herself. She was too sympathetic with her father to fight him on most things. It hurt him, but he knew it wasn't his place to step in.

He wished it was.

"Sylvain!" Ingrid snapped her fingers in front of his nose.

He returned to reality with a start, stumbling back a bit.

"Are you okay?" She asked, staring up at him with her beautiful evergreen eyes.

They were stunning.

"Yes, yeah, I'm fine." Sylvain responded quickly.

She narrowed her eyes, those thick eyelashes casting shadows of their own onto her optics.  
"Mhm..."

"I'm fine, In's! We're all good."

"Anyway..." She returned on her route, "I told him exactly what I told you."

"27 days in counting..."

Ingrid stopped as she waited for the gaurds to open the large doors.  
"Been keeping track, have you?"

Sylvain shrugged, as if it were no big deal.  
"Yeah, so what?"

She stopped, hesitating. Her emerald eyes wandered.  
"Just didn't expect that, I guess."

"Oh."

The two childhood friends fell into an odd silence as they proceeded to the training ground.

Sylvain wasn't totally sure why he was following her. It just kinda turned out that way. His honey-colored eyes lingered on Ingrid, in all her rugged, frustrated, exasperated beauty. He smiled softly to himself as she jogged to the rack on the side of the pillar he stood next to. She picked up two wooden training lances, tossing one to him with a nonchalant energy to the toss. Flicking her finger in a beckoning gesture, she walked out onto the stone. He followed, swinging the rickety lance in his red-palmed grasp.

"Let's work with defense." Ingrid said, adjusting her fingerless gloves to sit correctly.

"Right, you first?" He responded, a mild tease to his voice.

Ingrid smirked at his comment, putting a fist on her right hip.  
"Uh huh, nice try, Syl. I won't have you slacking on my watch."

He startled slightly at use of his childhood nickname. He'd always liked how she said it. Maybe he missed it.

Ingrid noted his surprise.  
"What? That's nothing new."

Sylvain stared for a moment before shaking his head.  
"Sorry, not it's nothing."

"....It's clearly something."

" In's, it's nothing. "

The blonde's dark brows drew to eachother over her striking evergreen eyes.  
"....Fine," She shrugged, "Just don't get distracted."

"Okay."

"Now, stop stalling! We're losing daylight 'cause of your shenanigans." Her eyes narrowed as she threw a hand up, gesturing at the late-morning sky.

He laughed, swinging his lance into a waiting stance.  
"Well fine, Lady Ingrid." He teased, smirking.

Without hesitation, she swung at him.  
"Don't call me that!"

He dodged and parried her attack.  
"Why not? It's your title isn't it?" 

She pushed off his lance, backstepping to hit from the side.  
" 'Cause it's weird coming from you-!" she hit his armor with a resounding clang.

"Awhhh c'mon, Countess!" He laughed again, pushing her away and countering.

"Stop it!!" She ducked, vaulting in the opposite direction.

He caught her waist and held her so she couldn't kick her way out of his grasp.  
"Make me."

Ingrid smirked wryly, persuading him to let her free. She walked around him, flipping her polearm.  
"...Alright then, Lord Gautier."

Sylvain braced, anticipating her newly-awoken ferocity. He watched her movement silently.

Suddenly, she lunged, clashing their lances once, twice, four times with a cry.

The male blocked each blow, a smile creeping onto his face. He took pleasure in the fierceness that he alone could trigger in her. It was like igniting a candle that shone solely for him. It made his day just that much brighter.

"RrrRRRAH!!"

He grunted as she slammed her lance down on his shoulder, causing him to topple over. He fell with a thud and clang onto the stone ground. 

The blonde pinned his arm with her boot.  
"Had enough?" 

Sylvain looked past her, watching Annette chatter away with Flayn in the corridor. He then turned back to the looming female.  
"No, I don't think I have." He winked in his usual flirtatious nature.

Ingrid grimaced, moving her foot off of him and walking towards a training dummy.

Goddess-dangit, you idiot. He thought to himself. Blew it.

He stood up, rushing to catch back up with her.  
"Ingriiiiid!!"

The Countess ignored him, swinging her lance at the dummy.

"Ing, I'm sorry! It was a joke!!"

"Yeah, I know." She slid the weapon through the dummy's 'arm'.

"Ouch. 'Cold as the Galatea grounds-" 

She froze.

He immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, regretting each syllable that had come out of his stupid, stupid mouth.

Ingrid threw him that death glare. The one she only gave him when she was actually angry or offended. This time, her eyebrows were arched upwards along with it.

She was hurt.

"Ingrid, I-"

She raised her hand to smack him but it never met his face. The girl stood there with her teeth gritted for a moment before dropping her lance with a dying hiss. She looked up at him with a pained face and brushed past, not a word left her mouth.

He attempted to go after her but she shot him another glare that told him 'Dont. You. Dare.'

The blonde marched off, her very movements touched with fragile hurt.

Suddenly Annette was beside Sylvain, hands on her hips.  
"What did you do to her??"

He jumped, staring at her like she had six arms or some other inhuman mutation.

"Well?"

Sylvain sighed.  
"I said something that touched on a sensitive spot..."

Annette shook her head, looking up at him with those big blue-grey eyes.  
"What did you say?"

He scratched the back of his head, averting his gaze. "Something."

The peach-haired woman groaned in exasperation. It was not something she did often, Ingrid usually had that covered.  
"I see why Ingrid gets so frustrated with you!" Sigh.

He shook his head, rubbing his hand down his face. How much of an insensitive idiot did he have to be to say that???? That, of all things, he just had to make a quip about that. Yes, apparently he did, or his best friend wouldn't be storming down the corridor with her pale face twisted in pain. He hated himself for it and hated how easily it had rolled off his tongue. It was like he was... used to hurting her. As if it were some kind of cruel habit of his. It tugged at his heart and made his stomach turn.

Maybe he was a monster deep, deep inside. If that was true, the good in him wanted Ingrid to have nothing to do with it. The terror of guilt slammed against his very soul and stabbed his heart. The voices of his doubt came through, telling him all the things he already knew about himself. They screamed at him and chastised the bubbling hope he'd been holding onto since the War had ended. They kicked him down because he had no right to stand. They told him that he should never have tried, that he was an idiot for even thinking she might love him, much less think of him as a friend. He was no friend. He was no lover. Not to her. He was just a sad replacement for what could've been.

You're worthless.

If you had no Crest, you'd be nothing.

You are nothing.

Are you even worthy of her?

Would she even give you a second glance?

She's so perfect... you're just a monster. Maybe Felix would be more accurate calling you a 'boar.'

She could've had someone so much better. Someone who would love her and care for her much more than you ever could.

She could've had real love.

She could have real love.

But she could've had Glenn...

**Author's Note:**

> This was more of a background study than anythin else but it kinda works...? I hope you enjoyed this and stay for the next part!


End file.
